


The Things Unsaid

by Kate_Shepard



Series: Banal Nadas [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Snowball Fight, unanswered questions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: After facing the Nightmare at Adamant, Solas is curious about what it said to Lavellan. She has questions of her own.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan
Series: Banal Nadas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720828
Kudos: 16





	The Things Unsaid

_Why are you here, Inquisitor? No one wants you. Felassan didn’t want you. Nor did Clan Lavellan. If not for the Keeper, you would have been driven out. Alone._

“Why did the Nightmare say what it did?” Solas asked, propped on an elbow on the bedroll he insisted on keeping on the other side of her tent. “That Felassan didn’t want you and your clan would have driven you out?”

Fen’an looked at him for a long moment, debating whether to tell him or not. Would he react like all the rest? Would he accept her? He already hated the Dalish. 

“Why did it say what it did to you?” she asked. “‘ _Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin_.’ I understand the last, taunting you that you’ll never be victorious. But ‘I know you, harellan’? The Dalish use that name for someone who has betrayed the People.”

“As did he,” Solas said, looking at her evenly. 

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I believe I asked you first,” he said.

“Fair enough.” She put her book down and sat up, meeting his gaze in the dim red light of the tent. 

It felt safe here, enclosed, like they were the only two who existed. The wards around the camp guarded them. The rune he’d placed in the center of the tent kept the cold at bay and warmed them without the smoke or risk of a fire. Its glow created the intimacy of two children hiding in a cloth fort strung between aravels, sharing whispered secrets over candlelight. 

“I told you I wasn’t born to Clan Lavellan. I don’t know who I was born to, only that I was found abandoned as a small child by an elf named Felassan. He was like you, in a number of ways. He had no clan. He didn’t particularly care for the Dalish, but he wore Mythal’s vallaslin, so he wasn’t a city elf. He refused to tell where he’d come from. And he knew things. He was a Somniari. Like you. He cultivated a love for learning and history, taught me how to explore the Fade, taught me how to use my magic, to discern spirit from demon, to find places that others believed long lost.”

“It sounds as if you cared deeply for this Felassan,” he said. “Why did you leave?”

“He was like a father to me.” She twisted the blanket between her fingers. “We met up with Clan Lavellan on our travels. They’d just lost their First, and when he sat down with the Keeper, I thought we both might stay. But when I woke the next morning, he was gone. I never saw him again. The Keeper took me in, took me under her wing, but she didn’t like what I’d been taught. She tried to change my views, told me I was misguided. ‘ _Fen’Harel ma ghilana_ ,’ she would say to me. I didn’t realize at first that it was an insult.”

“I…am sorry,” he said, his brow furrowing. He draped his arms over his knees, listening with the same active engagement he gave all of their interactions.

“Not your fault,” she said. “Eventually, I learned to keep my thoughts to myself and listen more than I spoke. I made friends. I found new family. But at the last Arlathvhen, we learned that Felassan was responsible for the slaughter of an entire clan by a demon. 

“I…Felassan believed as you do about blood magic, though he had fewer qualms about its use. He taught me how to use it, to control it, how to resist the lure of its power and of the demons it drew. I didn’t know to hide it from the Keeper, so the clan learned. I promised not to use it, and I don’t anymore, but Dalish society is based on remembering. So when they learned what Felassan had done and someone brought up my prior use of blood magic, the clan turned on me and would have driven me out. The Keeper calmed them, but she sent me to the Conclave in part to get me away from the clan for a time and let the waters settle.”

“And that is why you fear being left behind,” he said gently. 

“I always am,” she said, waiting expectantly. When he didn’t speak, she said, “Your turn. What did you do to be called harellan?”

He laid back on his bedroll and stacked his hands on his belly. “I said I asked you first, _vhenan_. I didn’t say I would answer.”

“Ha. You’re very funny,” she said, conjuring a snowball and throwing it at him. 

He gave a startled shout, sitting up and wiping the snow from his face. “Was that really necessary?”

“Alright, Fen’Harel,” she teased, imitating his voice. “‘When did I say I would answer you?’”

“I’m not Fen—that is—a remarkably good impression, _lethallan_ ,” he sputtered. 

“Why thank yo—oof.” She spat a mouthful of snow from the snowball he’d thrown back at her. 

His eyes gleamed with mischief across the tent. She’d only rarely seen a playful side to him. He was usually so serious. But he surprised her often with his openness, his curiosity, his subtle humor. It made her love him all the more. Even when the snow in her mouth took on the taste of tea. 

“Joke’s on you, Solas. I like tea.”

“Ugh. I rescind my earlier comments regarding your wisdom. The stress of your position has clearly driven you out of your mind,” he said, an affectionate smile on his face.

“I’m sure.” She crossed the tent and dropped into his lap, earning a surprised grunt and his hands on her hips. “You’re not going to distract me so easily. What did you do, _ma’lath_? Whatever it is, you can trust me with it.”

“Would that I could, vhenan,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “All I can say is that it is something I must make right.”

“But who are your people?” she asked. “Not the Dalish, you’ve made that clear. Not the alienages even though you wear no vallaslin.” She traced her fingers over his bare forehead and down his proud nose, over his cheeks and along his jaw. “Who does that leave?”

“No one you know,” he said. 

Her eyes narrowed on his face. Felassan had had the same long jawline, the proud nose, that haughty air that came over him when they were alone and he wasn’t pretending to be a wandering apostate hobo. They truly were alike, more than she’d realized until this moment. 

“I somehow doubt that,” she said softly. “If it would mean nothing to me, then what reason is there not to tell me? You don’t want to any more than Felassan did. Which means I would know if you told me. What are you hiding, Solas? What are you afraid of?”

She knew the answer to the last, though, didn’t she? Dying alone, the gravestone said. Was he afraid that she would leave him if she knew the truth? What had he done that he thought was so unforgivable? 

“I’ve told you everything I can, _vhenan_ ,” he said sadly, running his fingers through her hair. “Believe me, if I could, I would tell you everything.”

“And I would forgive you,” she said, brushing a kiss over his lips. “I forgave Felassan.”

“You are kind, Fen’an.” 

“And you are full of secrets.”

He rolled her onto her back on his pallet, his arm sliding beneath her head to cradle it and a hand cupping her jaw. His eyes searched hers, and the yearning in them brought something hot and tight into her throat. No one had ever looked at her like that. No one had ever wanted her like that. His fingertips traced her forehead, around her vallaslin. 

“Sleep, _vhenan_ ,” he whispered. “I will guard your dreams and keep the nightmares at bay.”


End file.
